Scorned Earth

[scornedearth]

INTRO | MAIN | MIRROR | PLAYLIST | AESTHETIC | WC | OPENS

INTRO | MAIN | MIRROR | PLAYLIST | AESTHETIC | WC | OPENS

INTRO | MAIN | MIRROR | PLAYLIST | AESTHETIC | WC | OPENS

[scornedearth]

Coming to Take Me Away Haha

Location: Lust Floor, Hell's Gate

What the fuck was happening? Morijah had never felt so vulnerable. People were missing, and who was next? What was going on? Who could be trusted? She had tried and failed to quiet her mind with logical reasoning, so she turned to the bottle, drinking in excess to ward off the worry that creased her brow. She didn't want others to see her in a state that could be read as weak. That was the last thing the capo needed: more whispers about her, more rumors. Getting stabbed by a child, that was out now. People couldn't fucking keep their mouths shut. Morijah Sullivan, the Capo, let a child stab her.

And she hadn't acted to bring the kid to justice for attempted murder. A decision she let her fucking heart make. The kid had made a stupid mistake; how many of those had Mor made? It didn't matter because that kid died anyway. She saw his face in the aftermath–dead. Fucking gone, and the choice she made didn't really matter. So she tossed the remains of her drink down her throat and motioned for another as the glass slammed down onto the table, "What are you looking at?" Morijah shot a glance, "Looks like you have as much on your mind as I do."

[insainted]

located : hell's gate ・ @scornedearth ( morijah )

It had been less than a week that Gray had been freed from his forced occupation that death had come to Burnington—entirely unrelated—making that he hadn't been able to actually check out the city that's now his home. That, and the weapons warehouse had not yet let go of his imagination, not to mention the electricity of both working closely with his very not dead twin sister, as well as being able to see his creature at any time he wants.

There'd been few other things that had taken precedent before those two things before the crisis had hit—talking to one of the bosses, for one. But now he finds himself in Hell's Gate, senses mildly dulled by some benzos Odd had produced a few days ago, the music more sound waves hitting his body than entering his ears. Eyes scan the floor slowly before they land on a particular woman; any other day, Gray would keep it to staring while he zones out, but there's a reason why he's here tonight—this is not a space he usually cares to be in without Odd taking his full attention away from everything else.

Hence the benzo.

His body moves before his brain registers it, and before Gray knows it, he's staring Morijah in the face, looking her over, hands in his pockets. "You're Morijah?"

[scornedearth]

Morijah was recovered, poking her head out from the confines of her office. Part of her feared that the kid would come back and try to finish her. That would force her to do something she didn't want to do, something more cruel than she wished to–kill the kid. Surely he wouldn't be that stupid, and there were other things more pressing.

She recognized the guy, a pang of nerves at the realization that he was her brother. The woman she cared about more than she should. The woman she saved from that shitty prison. "Yeah, Morijah Sullivan. What is it that I can do for you?

[eatabug]

who : open ( ft. rowan bandy ) where : in the thick of it, somewhere near remedy roots

rowan knows about radroaches.

better than most, they'd argue, and not just because of a lifelong fascination with bugs. no, these particular bugs? there was once a time when they'd taken everything from rowan ; back when they were little more than a barefoot and bright-eyed child, their entire community homestead was wiped out, entire families burrowed into by infectious, chitinous legs and sharpened mandibles. the sounds of screams piercing through the still mountain air is one that has taken years to try and forget.

but the second they hear those same screams, they're immediately brought back.

they're not a fighter, not a soldier by any means. they aren't selfish, not really, but they've got sound self-preservation instincts and they know better than to run headfirst into the panic. typically. the thing is, they're not ready to lose another community and rebuild. they can't. and so they rush in, the hunting knife strapped to their thigh clutched tightly in their hand as they start to direct folks out of the streets and somewhere they can barricade. somewhere they can hide.

they don't even feel it when it happens, not at first.

of course they hear the gunshot. they hear several, actually ― it's been a constant barrage, people shooting down infected friends and neighbors, family. it's not until the gasps from the mother and child they're urging toward remedy roots that rowan realizes something's wrong. they glance down to find vibrant red blooming through thin cotton from somewhere on their stomach. oh shit. and suddenly they can feel everything. rowan takes a shaky breath, swallows down the sick feeling rising in their throat and shoves the pair toward the nearest storefront. ❝ now! what, y'ain't got ears? go now, dammit! ❞

they stumble a few feet, bracing themself against a wall as they try to breathe through the pain and figure out what they're going to do next, one hand pressed to the brick and the other to their stomach to try and stem the bleeding. they shift until it's their shoulder pressed to the wall and maneuver a hand behind their back, their knuckles grazing blindly against the skin until they're met with a sudden jolt of pain that has them crying out before they can bite it back. well, it could be worse. when they finally pry their eyes open, it's to the discovery that they're no longer alone. double shit.

❝ good news? ❞ wana manages to offer around a pained swallow, providing absolutely no context. they suppose the context is bleeding through their shirt right now. ❝ s-sucker went cl-clean through. ❞

[scornedearth]

"Fuck, Fuck, fuck." Nemo wasn't sure what was happening. It was chaos, everything–chaos. Their first thought was to find Harley, but they had ducked into the store as soon as gunshots erupted and zoomed past them, "Oh Fuck, you are bleeding." Nemo was used to tending wounds, scrapes, and sprains, not this. They didn't know what to do; how could they know?

"Pressure, if it's through and through, we just need to find something to stop the bleeding." Nemo looked at the others taking shelter, pleading with them to help find something, anything. Nemo went to the nearest table and cleared it off. "I am only used to cuts and scraps, but I am the best you've got. I am nervous as hell, but you ain't got much of a choice."

[folliesofmiceandmen]

where: the lust floor with: anyone

"i'm gonna have to start chargin' extra if those eyes keep doin' that up and down thing, sugar." as she speaks, she's touching up her lipstick, eyes firmly planted on her own face, admiring, taking it in, enjoying the same little thrill that always graces her when she's at work. she likes being looked at, likes being noticed. people have every right to gawk and she has every right to preen about it like a peacock.

it is, after all, the most attention she gets on a daily basis.

and what is dizzy if not an attention hog?

eyes cut to the side, and she offers a somewhat sticky smile, that fresh lipstick smooth now and absolutely perfect if they do say so themselves. as the cap is replaced on the tube, her attention finally turns away from her own stunning face. "what do you think? i went a little darker than usual, but is it my color?"

[scornedearth]

Morijah had been on the mend. There was still a lingering stiffness, one that would show itself when her guard was down. Only a few knew what had happened, and that was ok with her. Sera was good at keeping their mouth shut, thank whatever god you chose, moth or not.

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" Morijah had been scarce on the floor. Recovering relatively slow from three deep stab wounds to the gut. The memory sent a shiver through her, fucking painful. If the stab wounds weren't enough, she had a nasty infection, too. The Capo grinned, "Yeah, sugar, I would pay extra. How is everything on the floor?"

Mor leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. "Your color, indeed." She added absently, as if unsure of how to behave in the presence of others, always looking over her shoulder and never fully trusting those around her.

[exmcrtis]

lola was raised to be kind, their mother's mantra of 'treat others as you want to be treated' constantly running through their mind. it was the most cliche, overused statement in the history of the world, and yet it stuck with them all this time. lola never wanted anyone to go without, even if they had ill intentions that hadn't been brought to the surface just yet. but nemo wasn't setting off any of lola's internal alarms, so they'd let themselves trust them for now. "i'm on my toes at all times, so if anyone understands being wary about a situation or a person, it's me. but you gained my trust when you told me you were stealing from afterglow. i'll explain more about that later."

nemo's grin was infectious, making lola's cheeks bloom in a bright pink color that they wished they could make go away. and yet they didn't mind if nemo saw them blushing, and so they resisted the urge to hide their face in their hands. "if you're robin hood, that means i get to be little john. or maid marian, but a maid marian that helps instead of sitting back and letting robin hood do all the wok. the irony is, i'm the one with the quiver and the arrows." they gestured towards the strap on their back, grinning proudly.

"yes, i'm sure i want to get involved. this is what i was made to do: i want to help the people you want to help, and i want to make afterglow suffer." lola let out a playful, exasperated sigh. "is that really so much to ask for here?"

[scornedearth]

Nemo could feel the excitement bubbling up at the prospect of later. Who knew that one simple word could ignite such anticipation? The way she smiled at them lit a fire in their cheeks, a blossoming heat that was undeniably there—embarrassing. The redhead ran a hand through their hair, trying desperately to appear calm, cool, and collected when their mind was filled with specific wild fantasies. Fuck, Nemo, chill.

Trust was a big deal, something the redhead would not betray, even if it cost their life. “You don’t look like a John.” Nemo eyed the bow. Could they get any hotter? “That’s hot.” The words came out before Nemo could stop themself. The redhead claps their hand over their mouth. “Fuck, oops, I mean it’s not a lie.” Their face reddened, “Sorry, I’m ….” Before Nemo could elaborate on how completely inappropriate their fox plopped down before them both and barked. “Sapphire, you come to make sure I’m not making a fool of myself in front of the beauty here, huh?"

[apocafics]

~~*~~

"Well I didn't put in this much work to plan a funeral," she mumbled as she grabbed the keys. The words were getting jumbled in her patient and that was never a good sign. But they were so close to somewhere she could actually work.

She fumbled with the keys one handed while looking around. If anyone was going to come across them, this would be the opportune moment. She could definitely use the help but she didn't want to waste time trying to explain what happened. She wasn't even completely clear on what happened other than some kid retaliating for something. The world had ended and began again several times in her life and yet the human propensity for violence was never ending.

The key finally slid in the lock and she shoved the door open so hard it banged loudly on whatever was behind it, she didn't stop to look. There was a desk and that would work just as well as a hospital bed, she'd used worse. Her bag slid across the surface pushing everything on the floor, it could get picked up later but it would be ruined if there was blood all over it. Well...maybe. She wasn't completely clear on who she was dealing with yet. "Alright jump on up there," she mumbled with a twitch at the corner of her mouth. She picked the worst moments to be funny. "I'm sure housekeeping can take care of the mess."

[scornedearth]

Morijah groaned as all the contents of her desk went clattering to the floor, “fuck.” There was no energy in the word, it was all leaking out in her blood. The Capo did as she was told, gripping the desk frame and propping herself on it. “I don’t want a funeral.” She added with a huff of laughter. The woman, her savior, was calm under pressure. Her humor embedding in every turn of phrase. Morijah would have laughed harder if her body wasn’t so tired. The amusement came out in a hiss, “sadly this isn’t the first bloody encounter this room has seen.”

Morijah wasn’t exactly an angel, no, she deserved the knife. Being a Capa was a rough business, “I’m going to lay down now.” Mor fell to her side and rolled to her back with a heavy thud. Her eyes were straining to keep open. The pain was getting more intense now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “Whiskey in the cabinet, would you be a dear and grab it.”

Alcohol would both disinfect and offer some relief to the throbbing, pulsing wounds in her side. “Lock the door.” That’s All she needed was for one of the associates to smell blood in the water. That would end very badly if the right shark tried to take a chunk out of her. She would destroy them. Morijah could not afford to look weak .

[strcinedhecrts]

SCARLETT MAY BE ALL about control in every crevice of her life — something possibly expected considering her presidency of the premier motorcycle club in the region. hell, in her eyes — the entire fucking world. she demanded control and dominance in very ounce of her life, her tall, muscular figure dripping in black, leather when the weather allowed. and yet, she can feel her knees on the verge of buckling as she listens to the equally hungry woman murmur in her ear. “ fuck self control. who needs that, when you can have a little fun? “ she hums. and if they stare, scarlett doesn’t care. at least they’ll know just who is taking her home. “ oh, i don’t know how sound my neighbors walls truly are. still doesn’t stop me. “ she hums. with a sound nod, she places the bills from her pocket on the table — knowing there was far more there than what either of them owed. she had other things to focus on. “ keep the change, doll. “ scarlett hums to the bartender, who may as well have appeared fourteen. “ suit yourself, m’dear.” the president hums. “ y’have no idea what you just got yourself into. but somethin’ tells me you can handle it. “

TIME SKIP.

scarlett’s place is just down the hill, thank fucking god. from the very moment the door opens she waists no time closing the space in what appears to be an epic crash, a alcohol-plagued mind determining very quickly that these fucking clothes are in the way. fingers waist no time coiling around her waist, delighted to meet bare skin for the very first time. she is not just hungry but ravenous, something that she knows will not just be satiated by just a handful of minutes — hell, maybe not even just one round. it’s very rare that she’s met by a woman who’s taller than she is, something that she notices quickly. “ the bed’s down the hall. “ she murmurs under her breath as they part, lips not very far away as her fingers coil further under her shirt. “ but i’m inclined to let you sit right over there…. relax…. and let my actions back up my words.”

for if scarlett was going to anything, it’s walk the fucking walk.

a finger gently slides under her chin, eyes aglow with the prospect of not just the rest of the night — but the battle ahead of them. a fight for dominance that while she most certainly wanted to win — she was more than delighting in the prospect of the marks it would leave behind. “ don’t go easy on me neither. “

[scornedearth]

Morijah’s hands are busy, fabric pinched between fingers with buttons slipping from their holds. This wasn't the ending she had expected when she walked into the mad scientist, but fuck was it needed. As soon as the door separated their bodies from the outside, Morijah felt Scarletts habds, “its your house, your rules.” The Capo’s grin spreads across her face. “If you want to put your mouth where the money is,” Morijah’s words came slow and slurred, that wasnt exactly the phrase, but it had her giggling all the same before she came in firva hungry, ravenous kiss. Her hands roaming the woman’s skin as she tasted her.

The finger on her chin, warm and electrifying, beckons their eyes to meet. A promise made at the bar echoes in her mind. Oh she would never go easy on her. The promise of two very strong willed woman fighting for each others pleasure, it had Morijah salivating.

Morijah broke the eye contact suddenly, walking over to the designated spot and laying herself across the armchair, “here?” she relaxed into it and shot the ravenous woman a devilish smile, “hope we don’t wake your neighbors, not that I care, not really.”

[eatabug]

❝ is there a right side if i've woken up? ❞ an abysmally dark response for a casual conversation with one of his brother's employees on a tuesday night, but his mood is already more sour than the cocktails he can't seem to keep in decent enough supply tonight. so feckin' sue him. his whole life feels like it's imploding in on itself somehow and darach doesn't know how to process it, so he drinks until he doesn't have to. the problem is, that kind of drinking? it never fails to turn him into an asshole.

what he intends to be a thoughtful hum comes out as more of a grunt at her explanation. and, to her credit, he takes it to be the truth ― not because he feels particularly qualified as a judge of her character, but because he knows that anyone who works at hell's gate or swears loyalty to the shamrocks knows better than to criticize an o'brien, especially on the property. to do it to his face? he knows she's not so foolish. darach shakes his head, waves a hand in languid dismissal.

❝ if this conversation were the worst part of my night, i wouldn't be nearly this drunk, i can feckin' promise ye, ❞ darach admits. ❝ but it's probably for the best ye do. i didn't come up here for company. ❞ he came up here to drink himself blind before eventually stumbling back to the crow's nest, and until her arrival, he'd been doing a decent enough job of it.

[scornedearth]

“No, there isn’t.” Morijah hated that groggy feeling when her body was still shaking off sleep. It was hell to get started on some days. Morijah could tell his concentration was elsewhere. Wasn't in the mood for company and in turn, she would let him be. The Capo prided herself oknonowing when to hold em and when to fold em. Her eyes lingered over the game and the stakes.

He must have been dealing with too much shit judging by the grunt and the non-existent sobriety. Morijah understood it, the drowning by alcohol, she saw it in the weary lines of hells gate patrons all the time.

“I’ll catch ya later then. Don't have to much fun.” She crossed her arms and headed in the direction of the door.

END

[murdcrofcrows]

"oh man, i don't think you need to be worried about me, dude or um, listener. sir?" they weren't sure how they were supposed to act in this situation. harley didn't take anything that seriously besides maybe the paranormal stuff and there inlaid his problem in situations like this. but, they had been fairly and thoroughly freaked out after pulling two bodies off the man in the bed in front of him now. that, and they were trying real hard not to think about the fact that they would've been there with all three of them if they would've been on time. honestly, ever since they've been wandering around a bit more aimless than usual and distracting themselves with literally anything they were able to.

harley offered a slow nod in response to the question but realized it was probably hard to see what he was doing so he cleared his throat and moved a bit closer to the bed. "yeah, i mean, yes. that means dead right? because they were definitely not alive." who the hell says perish outside a fantasy novel. then again, they had, during dungeons & dragon campaigns. almost definitely.

"oh yeah, um you shouldn't sit up, there's a button on your bed, um, right over there." they pointed where it was then turned to find the water pitchers. weirdly enough it was like riding a bike how well he could remember the layout of the hospital rooms. nothing had changed since his father had been in there all those years ago. they poured some filtered water into one of the glasses provided and popped one of those heavy duty rubber straws in there.

"here, i can hold it for you." harley moved over to the bed to put the cup next to the older man's mouth, guiding the straw to his lips. "yeah i was, like, four i think. i talked about them on my podcast though, but no one listens to me. they are so freakin' loud, man. my ears are still ringing." he shook his head. "everyone is super worried about you, though. but i'm sure you already know that, huh?"

[scornedearth]

Malaric would have scoffed, rolled his eyes, probably walked away at being referred to as ‘dude’, but where woukd he go? The listener was confined to the bed speaking in ragged breaths and wincing at the aftermath of his words. Every movement ached, settling in his bones and splintering. He imagined this is what being inside of a massive thunderhead might feel like. It was hot and damp and pricking like surging electricity wherever air met his gleaming skin.

Malaric touched the button, but the sudden movement had him groaning in his retreat. No, he shouldn't sit up. “Thank you.” malaric took a few sips with his help. The water reminded him how badly raw his throat was. “Too young to really remember. Did anyone tell you stories as you got older? Did they warn you of the promise they'd return?” Malaric had forgotten until tgat sound. It all came back, but by the time you can hear it, it was too late.

“How many were wounded? Killed? And how long will I be in this fucked up place?” Malaric had not wanted to be taken to the compound. This was no place for him. He'd be much happier seeking natural healing remedies than pumping whatever toxic shit they thought might help him. Fluids, that's what he needed most. “I do not want to be here. As soon as I can get out I will.”

[insainted]

Seventeen years spent in the forest has made Briar very adept at getting around silently and unseen, if only for their own protection—especially now that summer is looming, the ground and ambient temperature has warmed enough to warrant bare feet, making for even softer footfalls. The past week has been hectic, their store looted and a lot of equipment broken, but they've been made to believe that it had been for a greater good, and would be duly compensated. For the time being, Briar has decided it's a headache not worth worrying about just yet; her employees haven't been able to make it to work anyway, especially not with the state of the store. One problem at a time.

No, the store is still just one avenue of income for her anyway. Material effects can be replaced, people cannot. While she hasn't managed to check up on Damo yet, Briar makes her way to where Nemo has set up to make sure they weren't caught in the clash. The barking of their fox is heard before the campsite even comes into vision, moss underfoot masking any noise bare feet might make, and Briar is about to come out when Nemo's voice calls out. Holding the basket in their hand closer to them, their mouth curls up into a mischievous little grin, circling slowly to try to get a better view of their little protégé, ducking down a little to hide in the underbrush more.

It's the twig she hadn't noticed or accounted for that finally gives her away. With a dramatic sigh and flurry, Briar pushes through the brush, pulling the hood of her cloak off her head as she goes to further reveal her identity. "You're far too wound up, Nemo, you really should lighten up," she admonishes them, holding up the basket.

"Wanna come down? I got goods, fun goods, you'll like these ones. Like consider it a peace offering or something. Actually, it's not really a peace offering, with what happened last week I kinda just wanted to make sure you weren't, I don't know, swollen up to a blistering crisp by those buggies, or dead even."

Setting down the basket, Briar unclips the cloak clasped together between her collarbones, hooking it up onto a low hanging branch, hair loosely braided together into a tamed mane of curls and wildflowers. "Did you know they absolutely ruined my shop? Not the bugs, mind—well, I guess also the bugs, indirectly, but the people. Necessary, they said." Briar lets out an exasperated sigh. "Can you believe it?"

[scornedearth]

“Fucking hell, with all the shit that's been going on? I think I am the right amount of wound up.” Nemo was glad tgat someone was worried about them other than Harley. They were relieved that nothing malicious had wondered out into the Forrest to plunder their simple little camp. With the swarm, many might find the mad dash for resources outweighed common decency. It was exactly why they'd fled the chaos as soon as they could. After depositing Malaric and stealing away precious supplies to Hell’s Gate, they were out of good deeds to pull off. There was only the lingering smile of Lola and the savoring thrum of their heart as it skipped beats. Perhaps something good did come out of all the chaos.

Memo climbed down with a hint of a smile at the promise. Nemo knew exactly what sort of goods they'd be partaking of. They hoped the woman wouldn't pick up the residual glow of the instantaneous crush they'd formed for the one who kept them from being caught, but Briar was intuitive like that. Nemo wouldn't dwell on that coupled with the threat of them getting absolutely stoned in the near future.

“I was there, Briar, I believe it. You'll rebuild it though. You are resilient like that. It was really fucked up. People act out when scared. Its not their fault, not really.” somehow Nemo had made it out unscathed. “Alright, im down now. What do you got to take the edge off?”

[apocafics]

~~*~~

"Just don't die on me, that's thanks enough," Sera huffed as she looked up the stairs and then to her patient before shouldering more of her weight. It wasn't going to be pretty but she was doing to get to that office. The trail of blood they were leaving behind was both concerning and amusing. A place like this probably wouldn't question it. It was possible it wouldn't even get noticed right away assuming they didn't run into anyone on the way. If they did, Sera was praying that Morijah was still awake to tell them she would live. Of that she was sure at least. The woman was going to live because Sera was going to make sure of it.

"Keep talking, this is good. Gotta stay present," she was focusing solely on the next step and then the next, fearing if she glanced up or behind to see where they were she would lose her balance. She didn't want to hear about Shamrock business, though she only had a cursory understanding of what that even meant since the name was heard around town occasionally. If she was honest she didn't want to hear anything about a floor named Lust either but it was better than her losing consciousness. "How long you worked here? Hopefully it wasn't your first job. Something more normal like bagging groceries or something."

At the top of the stairs she chances a glance up to look around. It all looks the same to her but there has to be some difference. "Just pick a room or...?"

[scornedearth]

“Don’t die, I’ll try my best.” morijah’s body was moving on only adrebaline. She wasn't sure how much blood she had left. Morijahs could feel the warm, sticky liquid soaking between her fingers. If she died, woukd anyone stop to care? No, probably not. Many might find it a relief with her recent streak of cruel punishment. The weight of her attackers gaze lingered in her mind’s eye. She deserved this.

“I started with dirty work. Proving myself. My father betrayed the shamrocks. Had a lot to come back from. He took me out I the Forrest and joined himself to that fucking cult. Shackles me to that fucking insanity fir years until he got himself killed and I escaped. Begged for a chance to redeem my name. If id shown an ounce of sympathy it would have been weakness. Thats why that kid made me a pin cushion. I fucked it their father and I couldn't fight back. Because they were just a kid. Fuck…” Morijah stumbled on the next step, a defeated groan leaving her lips, “office is that way.” through blurred vision and tears morijah points to the door that was a little more ornate than the rest with her name etched in gold font over the frame. Black was starting to creep in on the edges of her vision.

“Here…” Morijah pulled a set of keys from a clip on her belt, “don’t let me die when we made it this far, ok?”

[murdcrofcrows]

"yeah, yeah i'm good. i ran and then i got stuck at the entrance when all the—" harley didn't finish the thought because it didn't matter. he wasn't hurt and neither were they and that was the best news. unfortunately malaric and the two other neophytes were not as lucky. he couldn't believe he just touched a dead body, he was pretty sure that had never happened before. that's the type of stuff you remember, he would probably remember, right?

"this is fucked up, nemo. this is so fucked up," he started to pick him up and stopped, spotting a wheelbarrow by one of the stalls. it had some kind of food in it but this was an emergency and he was sure they wouldn't mind. on closer approach there was another very deceased person behind the stall and harley scrunched their face into a grimace. they muttered a quick sorry, in case that was the stall owner, as they dumped the contents onto the ground. wheeling back over to nemo, they shoved a piece of wood under the wheel. "okay if we can just get him in this thing, we just have to wheel him down the road to roots and they should be able to help him. ready?"

[scornedearth]

He was right, it was fucked up. Nemo groaned at the feat ahead of them. This entire fucked up situation was sure to have one hell of an ending, but at least there was a plan. Nemo looked at the wheelbarrow and nodded as they moved to get the limp, dead weight into the bucket. It woukd be a miracle if they got out of this unscathed.

“Fucker is heavier than he looks.” Memo grunted as they shouldered the weight while Harley readied the wheelbarrow. They wanted nothing to do with this man and here they were playing the hero they didn't want to be. However, they'd do anything for Harley and this is what he needed from them. “You owe me.” they grunted again, “a fucking lot. Like damn this is all fucked up.” they were very overwhelmed with everything. There was the heavy air—dread laced and potent. It sealed into theur skin and bubbled into their blood, mingling with the adrenalin of it all. They'd stop to let it all out later, for now they simply needed to keep going.

[folliesofmiceandmen]

she isn't sure that anything they say is really true, but she isn't going to argue either. because duri has one purpose in life, and one reason to keep living, and despite the inherent desire to live, if that reason decides that she's no longer necessary or important, well... perhaps her time will be over anyway.

eyes linger on the shrine in front of her, familiar, safe. not rocking or steering anything. she's never been sure of herself, unless that self is directly in relation to how she pleases people who don't ever seem pleased with her anyway, and she isn't quite sure where to start beyond that. "i think all of our boats are pretty bad, right now." and maybe that's the pessimistic way of looking at it. and maybe she could try to be a little more hopeful, but she's tired. "unfortunately, i also don't really know how to swim."

[scornedearth]

“Swimming is the easy part.” Nemo didn’t look to the shrine for guidance. It was just a thing—dead. Instead they exhaled a deep breath into air above, eyes fixed on the expanse of sky and canopy of trees—alive. Their heart ached for people like Duri, she seemed so locked in place on this path. “You just lay still and float if you can’t swim. It’s pretty simple.”

But Nemo couldn’t change their mind, nor did they want to. Memo could respect others beliefs and still call them a friend. Had they not been doing that already? “Unfortunately, I think we all have been trying desperately to keep the boats afloat for a while now. You should definitely learn how to swim. Might save your life one day.” Nemo spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, “I think your logic is crazy, but to each their own I suppose.”

[exmcrtis]

"i like to think i'm pretty tough, but i suppose someone else would have to be the judge of that to avoid bias." by now, lola should be used to being studied. growing up in afterglow made them feel like they were under a microscope at all times, and they had tried to get over it. but the way nemo watched them was different, and before they knew it, they were blushing. their cheeks were warm and their breathing had hitched, and lola just hoped that they hadn't noticed.

lola let out a snort at their comment, head quickly shaking as if to brush it off. "hardly an angel. i just like to be as prepared as possible, and with the way things seem to go around here, being prepared is essential." but lola's eyebrows lifted in the next moment, almost offended by the question. "no, i will not be ratting you out. that would be the shitty thing to do."

of course, lola had questions. about a million of them swirled around in their mind, and as they mimicked nemo's actions and leaned against the wall, they couldn't help but give them a once-over. were they curious enough to get involved? whatever nemo had been up to could potentially be more helpful than hurtful, but lola always felt a little paranoia when it came to things like this. what if nemo was secretly part of afterglow?

but before any questions could slip out, they were already explaining. suddenly lola's arms were covered in goosebumps, a silent thrill shooting up their body as they straightened their posture. nemo was stealing from afterglow, and that in and of itself told lola that they were one of the good ones.

"let me help you," they blurted, not bothering to stop and think first. "there are so many people that need help but refuse to go to the compound. let me help you get supplies for them. please?"

[scornedearth]

Nemo only smiled; what else could they do? They were nearly speechless, captivated by Lola's striking features. She had offered them water, a simple kindness that spoke volumes about her character. "You offered a stranger, someone you don't know, someone you couldn't possibly trust... yet you can trust me. Ugh, I'm rambling. The point is that a little act made a big difference." Nemo scratched their head, allowing their pointed ears to peek out from their messy mop of red hair. They were nervous, but as Lola confessed that she wouldn't be tattling on them, the tension began to lift. Nemo laughed nervously, "I mean, you can't be too careful in this world we live in. I’m relieved you find that to be awful, because it truly is." Nemo should have stopped talking; they were making quite a mess of things already.

When Lola blurted out her interest in helping, Nemo couldn't help but grin. Their eyes gleamed with mischief and a hint of something unfamiliar. "You want to help me play Robin Hood? A partner in crime?" Nemo bit their lip as a smile danced across their lips. Nothing pleased them more than someone who could indulge in their escapades. They were doing this to be a good person, sure, but they also lived for the thrill of it.

Nemo noticed the way Lola pleaded, and the sudden shift in the air as she leaned against the wall, engaging in casual conversation. Nemo would give her anything she asked for at this point. "I certainly wouldn’t object to spending more time getting to know you, but are you sure you want to get involved?"

[avadaniels]

LIV HEWSON as VAN PALMER Yellowjackets S03E05

[luckythings]